


Sunday Noon

by Hangmansjoke92



Category: In the Loop (2009), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17874869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hangmansjoke92/pseuds/Hangmansjoke92
Summary: The continuation of a Sunday breakfast that goes horribly wrong





	Sunday Noon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Sunday Breakfast.  
> Again my grammar is aweful and I have a limited idea about the english punctuation. Soo if you see mistakes message me and I will happily correct them. 
> 
> A fair warning, now we have two angry Scotsman. A lot of swearing and threats of violence.

“Uncle Malcolm, please let me explain”, she tries to calm the raging thunderstorm, who is standing in front of her.   
But he doesn’t listen to her he pushes himself in her flat and stalks down the hallway with a glint in his eyes like Jack Nicholson chasing Shelly Duvall up the stairs.   
She follows him, desperately trying to hold him back.

When they round the corner into the kitchen Jamie stands behind the breakfast table, chair raised in front of his chest as to defend himself, his trousers stained with Lemon Zinger.

“Malc, stop there, it isn’t as bad as it looks”, he uses the sensible approach but has very little success with it and starts to cower under the gaze of a Malcolm Tucker beyond any comprehension. To make the situation scarier than it already is Malcolm doesn’t raise his voice, grinning like a madman who just got his favourite butcher knife back he whispers,  
“You wanted blood? There will be blood, in 3D and you can experience it live while I rip you to fucking shreds and hang your marred corpse at the tree in my front garden just so I can look at it every morning and smile at the thought that your empty, shallow life ended with blinding hot pain inflicted by my own hands.”

“Malcolm, stay calm, sit down and let’s talk about it”, she grabs his arm and pleads.

“Yeah, like adults ya know. We three, nice and calm, by a hot tea. How does that sound”, Jamie attempts to get the fuming rhinoceros in this very little kitchen back to his senses and puts the chair to its right place. 

“I am calm, I am fucking zen. You even get the chance to decide if I kill you right fuckin’ now or if you would prefer it to lead the rest of your miserable life without your filthy cock, I am feeling rather generous today”, Malcolm rages suddenly.

“Oh well, I wouldn’t like that so much. I mean him without his cock. And the blood all over my floor, who will mop this up?” she says and immediately bites her tongue while both man turn to her. One with glorious fury in his eyes and the other one with pleading desperation to shut her mouth.  
“Could you keep your verbal diarrhea to yourself for a second? That would be quite helpful, thank ya. Sit down old chap, I can explain all this from the beginning”, Jamie starts another attempt to defuse the tension in the room. 

“Oh thank god yes, start right from the beginning please. I like to imagine this whole fuck up in every glorious, colourful detail”, Malcolm goes on. How long is this been going on? Should I start throwing rice or congratulate to the newborn baby and sing for auld lang syne in celebration of this catastrophe?” he asks.

“Well, catastrophe is a bit farfetched don’t ya think?” Jamie replies.

“Farfetched? You sittin’ here like you own this place, why, did you pull your pisser out and spread your bloody yellow juice all over the place to mark your territory? Is this what you are into, you fucking backstabbing pervert?” Malcolm yells.

“Mh, I am not the golden show kind of girl, I think. But it’s worth a try”, she throws in.

“Oh shut up already”, both men shout at her. 

“Hey, why I am the bad guy all of a sudden. It was just a joke to lighten the mood”, she replies.

Jamie throws his arms over his head in surrender and regrets that he hasn’t wrote his testament. Now Malcolm’s anger turns to her.

“You are the bad guy in this story here. You are the bloody Joker of fuck right now. What, pray tell me, gotten into you, to shag this sorry excuse of a man?” he asks.

“Well, it is not all my fault. You invited him in your house on a regular basis and send him to me to ‘help the fucking lassie find a decent flat, show her the sights, just get her away from my whiskey cabinet and my designer cushions’”, she imitates Malcolm’s deep lilt. 

“Yeah Malc, you pushed us together. How sweet of you. You were like a fairy godmother, sending her on the way with a rotten pumpkin and some plaque ridden mice to find her one true bloody love”, Jamie smiles.

“Now it is my fault masel-fucking- tov. I don’t remember to dress you in shining gold armour. You should be more like the fucking tin man showing her the yellow path. Not flaying your cock around and finding your black shrivelled heart on the way and give it to her in a disturbing blood sacrifice. Should I call an exorcist? Or better a witch, who is dancing around a fire, wiggling her flat boobs and turning you back into the good flying monkey that you are”, Malcolm rants on.

“Uncle Malcolm it is enough now. I am a grown woman and more than capable to decide with whom I spend my time with. Your concern is really moving but in this situation a bit medieval”, she raises her voice.

“Oh yes, let us be medieval. What can he offer you? I see that a herd of sheep would be over the top. But well, besides a bad reputation with very dissatisfied women, a collection of ill fitting suits and a career that will rapidly go downhill when I am finished with his traitorous arse, he has nothing” Malcolm tells her.

Jamie starts to protest but she interrupts him. “Shush Jamie, I am talking now”, she looks at Malcolm and goes on, “Don’t fuck around here. You will not destroy his career because of such a ridiculous temper tantrum. I understand how this looks, the age gap and his overall childish behaviour is not particularly good relationship material but he is your friend. You should know him better or do you just sit together, drinking Scotch, watching porn and wank each others cocks?” she asks. “And excuse me, but you know me. I have the fucking Tucker genes, I can handle a bad mouthed idiot, who is a fucking fluffy teddy bear under is façade of badly placed expletives”, she continues.

“See mate, it is just my Scottish charm that seduces all the Tuckers. Maybe you are just jealous, sorry buddy but I am more into cunt then cock”, Jamie grins.

She barely got the time to face palm herself, because the last comment seemed to have flipped a switch in Malcolm’s head and he launches himself at the other Scotsman. They both fell down to the floor in a shower of broken china and cold tea.

She has to jump over an upturned chair to grab Malcolm’s shoulders, trying franticly to stop him from strangling Jamie to death.

“Malcolm stop, you are acting like a raging lunatic. Let him go”, she screams while pulling with all her might at his arms.

“Yes, I am of my fucking rocker and I will happily go to the looney bin when I crushed this bastards throat”, Malcolm rages, spit flying and hands around Jamie’s neck, who tries to prey the hands away to get air into his lungs.

“Stop”, he wheezes. “You don’t understand”, he gasps for air. “I love her”.

“You do what?” Malcolm is taken by surprise and loosens his grip. Jamie uses the distraction of his opponent to ram his knee in Malcolm’s crotch. 

With an ‘oof’ Malcolm releases Jamie’s neck and crashes into the kitchen cupboards burying his niece under him.

“Get off me, how can you be so thin and so heavy at the same time?” she cries and pushes Malcolm away from her.

Malcolm ignores her, sits up and looks at Jamie full of shocked disbelieve. “You do what?” he repeats.

“I fucking love her”, Jamie takes deep breath. “What did ya think. When I want a good fuck I call a prostitute. When I pay for it I can tell them to shut the fuck up and get on with it. That one there”, he points at her, “Can’t hold her tongue for five seconds and I believe her head will explode when she tries to go on a day without quotin’ a fuckin’ unshavin’ woman rights activist. No man with a workin’ cock and a few brain cells would stand this on a daily basis just for a fuck up against a wall. I am sittin’ at a fucking breakfast table for fuck sakes. I can’t even remember when I had my last breakfast especially sittin’ down while dowin’ it”, Jamie rambles on.

Malcolm gaps at him, then turns his gaze to her, who just shrugs her shoulders smiling and then back to Jamie. “ I…well. I don’t…ahm”, he tries to organise his thoughts.

Jaimie raises his fist into the air, “Ha, look at me, Jamie fucking MacDonald shuts up the Iago of spin. He is at lost with his words, Ladies and Gentlemen. Applause, confetti, where is my celebratory parade?”

She gets up from the kitchen floor and disappears into the living room while Jamie stands and holds his hand out to Malcolm. “Come on mate, just a little misunderstanding.”

She returns with a bottle of Scotch and three glasses. Jamie picks up the chair, which they pushed over in their frenzy earlier.

“Wonderful guys, now that we are all friends again we can sit and have a nice drink”, she says.

“It is 12 pm, wouldn’t coffee be more appropriate at this time?” Malcolm asks raising his eyebrow.

“Don’t be a sissy Uncle Malcolm”, she replies. “We are Scots, we can drink art any time we see fit, the world thinks as alcoholics already. And after that you two will be in a better mood and have more motivation to tidy up my kitchen while I sit here spouting quotes of those unshaved women’s rights activists”, she laughs.

Both men groan in agony while Jamie purrs himself a double into his glass.


End file.
